Nothing's forgotten
by Filia Venatoris
Summary: How the outlaws fare in the horrible time "in between". Enjoy and please review. Thanks to "I am silently correcting your grammar" for beta-reading.


**Nothing's forgotten**

(Between series 2 and 3)

The Saracen drifted along. Dressed in the rough peasant's clothes he had got used to by now he lived in the forests. Uncomfortableness meant little to him. From time to time he came through a town. Then he was sometimes spit at or kicked. He never reacted.

Some time ago nobody would have dared to even glare at him. These times were over. He tried to forget that once he had been Nasir Malik Kamal Inal Ibrahim Shams ad Duala Watthab ibn Mahmud.

He tried to forget that once he had fought with Robin Hood, who had been a hero of the poor.

But nothing was forgotten.

X X X

A loud crashing sound had Amos Scathlock look up from the mug he was about to fill. At last! His brother was so drunk that he had collapsed unconcious between the benches.

Amos filled the mug unhurriedly, put it down, went over to his brother, grabbed him on the collar of his filthy jerkin and pulled him into a corner.

The bell tolled midday.

Not bad! Normally, Will needed an hour longer until he collapsed. But the earlier the less he could bother Amos' guests.

Amos thought back at the months past: when Will had arrived, he had looked terrible. Of course he hadn't told anybody what was bothering him; he never did. However, the bad temper he had had before had become worse still. The most futile reason for a fight was enough for him. After just a short time he became infamous in Lichfield.

More than once Amos would have dearly liked to kick him out. But Will was still here. How could Amos throw out his own brother when something was eating him like this?

What was more: Will caned in. Most of the days he was already half-drunk by breakfast time. He hadn't been really sober for months. It seemed as if he was desperately trying to forget.

Amos was right.

Will Scarlet drank and fought to forget that once he had battled beside Robin Hood, who had been a fighter for the weak.

But nothing was forgotten.

X X X

Much's and Little John's days began early. With the first sunlight they got up to tend their sheep. Getting up early wasn't difficult for them. The ruined church they lived in, a rotting pile of stones, was cold and uncomfortable. It didn't offer any protection against the ever-blowing wind on the Hathersage hills. No matter what they did, they were always cold.

John and Much talked little when they worked. They didn't talk much at all; they never spoke about the things that had happened. To Much it seemed that he had aged a hundred years since the days in Sherwood. Little John built a wall of silence around himself to hide his growing anger and his homesickness for Sherwood.

Both men tried to forget that once they had lived with Robin Hood, who had been a brother to the dispossessed.

But nothing was forgotten.

X X X

Tuck sat at the fire waiting for the children. They came almost every day. Sometimes they brought what their parents could spare: bread, salt, cheese, vegetables. Always they wanted to hear stories. Stories of Robin Hood. Tuck liked storytelling. In his tales, Robin became an immortal hero. The children listened open-mouthed. None of them believed even for a moment that Robin was dead. Tuck liked it best that way.

When the children went home the forest became a cold and lonely place. In the past months Tuck had wandered many miles through Sherwood. He had tried to find Herne. He had tried to find Robin. There wasn't a trace of either of them. Tuck had never been lonelier in all of his life. That was why he told the children stories.

He tried to forget that Robin Hood, who had been a friend to the tortured, was dead.

But nothing was forgotten.

X X X

Marion sat in the garden of Leaford Grange, watching the gardeners weeding. Her father had thought it good for her to go out into the sun. During the months past she had been the daughter he had always wanted, or at least almost so. Gentle, obedient, without contradiction. Without life. When she had returned to him the first thing he had thought about was how to get enough money to buy her a pardon. In the end he had sold the village of Leaford to the Sheriff. Almost a third of his posessions. All those poor Leaford people – and all the money. It should have been given to the poor instead of being wasted on her!

But the worst was yet to come. They had traveled to London together. In Westminster they had asked for an audience with the king. The big hall John held court in had been packed with people. To her horror her father, the proudest man she knew, except… except… had got down on his knees right after they had come in and had crawled all the way up to the throne, through the length of the hall. King John had been delighted about the act and the money and had sealed the pardon immediately. Ever since then, she had been free of guilt officially, and yet she felt more trapped than ever before.

Her father did everything to entertain and distract her. Rides, jesters, storytellers, minstrels, parties. He didn't see that the company of 'the likes of her' was a torture for her just because of her past. Wherever she went there was whispering and cruel remarks behind her back.

Her father tried to make her forget that once she had loved Robin Hood, who had been an angel for the hungry.

But nothing was forgotten.

X X X

Robert of Huntingdon stood next to his father in the great hall of Huntingdon Castle. It was the day of the court. Robert had tried to avoid taking part but was told that it was his duty as the future Earl of Huntingdon to be there. Now he disgustedly listened to his father administering justice. David of Huntingdon might be one of the better barons of England but even here justice was seldom just.

When an ill-looking man was dragged in by some foresters Robert looked up. The man was thin and dirty. His eyes shone with fever. His right hand was missing. The stump was covered with a dirty cloth.

One of the foresters stepped forward, letting the ill man drop to the floor quite heavily. Robert drew in a sharp breath and even his father seemed annoyed.

"Mylord," the forester said, "we found this man in the forest, setting traps for rabbits. We caught him red-handed. Poaching. That's why we enforced the judgement right on the spot. But the man is one of your serfs. According to the law we have to report any damage of your property to you."

Robert would have dearly liked to wipe the forester's smug smile out of his face with his sword. How dared the man talk about another man like this?

David of Huntingdon gave the little group in front of him a strict look. Then he sighed."You did right," he told the foresters, "even though I disappro-"

Robert couldn't stand it any more. "He did right? Was there no other way? Just look at the man. He's starving. Didn't he have the right to a trial, to a life?"

Shocked, David of Huntingdon stared at his son. Had Robert taken leave of his senses? Such a scene in front of all these people?

He answered sharply: "That's the law. Nothing is to be taken out of the forest; neither wood nor plant nor animal!"

Angrily Robert waved off, storming out of the hall, ignoring his father's shouts. He ran aimlessly through the castle. He only stopped when he reached the top of the castle walls. When he would be Earl, he would do a lot better than that.

A sudden wind from the north, from Sherwood, made him turn his head in that direction. Longingly he thought back to his short adventure in the forest, to his encounter with the hunter – he had called him his son. Then he hung his head. His destiny, his duty was here at Huntingdon.

He had to forget that once he had been the successor of Robin Hood, who had been the liberator of the oppressed.

But nothing was forgotten.

X X X

Nothing was ever forgotten!


End file.
